Chapter 3
“What are you talking about?”
“Who the hell shoved such a terrible actress into Writer Sung’s drama?”
“Hey. Can’t you watch your mouth?”
He quickly glanced around and even checked that the door was completely shut. Sara gave a snort.
“Who is it? You must have someone backing you up if you’re living like this, doing whatever you want. What are you, some chaebol’s daughter or something?”
“It’s not like that. Don’t go around spreading weird rumors.”
“Well, it doesn’t make sense otherwise. Even the CEO knows how picky Writer Sung is. Do you know how hard I tried to curry favor with her, how much effort I put into greetings and gifts?”
“Se-yeon probably did the same.”
After that, Sara tried prodding him a few more times, but Park Hyun only kept repeating that it wasn’t true and wouldn’t budge.
He changed the subject and handed her the script for Rockstar episodes 1 and 2.
When she saw her name written on the script, Sara’s eyes curved into a sweet crescent smile.
“Stop talking nonsense and just do well at dinner tonight.”
“Dinner? Oh, with Altech?”
“Yeah. I stayed up half the night to get you back into Rockstar. Ugh, whatever.”
“Yaaah, our CEO! You’ve worked so hard!”
She spread her arms wide and pretended to hug him.
Park Hyun flinched and shoved her away.
“Don’t come near me! Do you know I age ten years every time you act like this?”
“If it’s that hard, just give the role back to Kim Se-yeon. I don’t need dinner.”
“No, no! I was just saying. Everyone knows that even doing somersaults, the perfect lead for Rockstar is our actress Seo Sara. Who else could it be?”
He quickly changed his expression and switched tones.
Sara chuckled softly and tucked the script under her arm.
“Is Altech really that great? Careful, CEO—you’ll wag your tail so hard it breaks.”
“What good is abolishing class hierarchies? In capitalism, the ones with money are kings. So don’t make a scene, just sit quietly and eat.”
“Yes, yes.”
“I told Chief Cho, so stop by the salon and get yourself polished up real pretty, understood?”
“It’s just one dinner. Why the salon? Suspicious, CEO Park. Don’t tell me it’s at some hotel room, like 1701 or something?”
Sara narrowed her eyes and scanned him up and down.
Hyun’s face instantly hardened.
“Are you crazy?”
“Isn’t it?”
“Do I look like that kind of trash to you? It’s a French restaurant. Have I ever once said anything shady while working with you?”
Well, Sara was already a top-tier actress.
The days when she needed anyone’s dirty help were long gone.
When Hyun jumped up denying it, Sara relaxed her gaze.
“Of course I was joking. I know our CEO Park would never do that.”
“Actress Seo. I’m very disappointed. That you’d see me as such a low-grade person.”
“I said I’m sorry.”
After she tossed a few apologetic words at sulking Hyun, his stiff expression softened a little.
“Anyway, I’ve said what I needed. You can go now.”
Soon enough, Hyun was shooing her out.
When she got down to the parking lot, Mirae and Jooyoung were waiting.
It wasn’t even one o’clock yet, but Mirae fussed over her and dragged her to the salon.
Hair, nails, outfit, makeup—she was prepped like she was attending an awards ceremony.
“What time’s dinner?”
“Seven.”
“Where?”
“Le Soleil, at Sparkle Square.”
“Oh? The Nonhyeon main branch? Didn’t they say reservations are booked solid for half a year?”
“That’s for ordinary people like us.”
Sara nodded at Mirae’s words.
No matter how much money entertainers made, real chaebols were on a whole different level.
When she whined about being hungry, they shoved a tasteless green smoothie and a banana into her hands.
It was past two in the afternoon, her first meal of the day.
She devoured it in seconds and asked for another banana, but Mirae’s face turned stern.
“You can eat at dinner. But don’t eat too much. Keep it light. You know you have to stay in shape until the next photoshoot.”
“I know, I know.”
By the time she was dressed in a knee-length black evening dress, she really did feel like she was headed to an awards show.
“Freezing to death here.”
The outfit was red-carpet ready, but that also meant she was freezing.
Of all days, the temperature was minus seven, with windchill dropping below minus ten.
Shivering, she pulled a padded coat over her wool coat.
“Should I turn on the heater?”
“No. It dries out my skin. Just give me a hot pack.”
Winter air was dry enough already—having hot air blast her face would be deadly, especially with a photoshoot coming up in two weeks.
She dozed off, and when she opened her eyes, the car had stopped.
“Noona, we’re here.”
Mirae had left earlier for other errands, so only Jooyoung was with her in the car.
“Should I park here and wait?”
“Yeah. Grab something to eat nearby. I’ll call when I’m done.”
She ditched her padded coat and carried only a clutch with her phone inside.
On the way to Le Soleil, people recognized her face, asking for autographs and pictures.
She signed a few with a friendly smile before finally slipping into the elevator.
Thankfully, no one followed her all the way to the entrance.
“Seo Sara.”
Even recognizing her, the staff at Le Soleil didn’t bat an eye.
“Right this way, please.”
It was 7:05 when she checked the time.
Soft classical music filled the quiet restaurant.
Soon they reached an ornate door.
The staff knocked twice and opened it.
A man was seated at the table.
“Good evening.”
He stood and reached for a handshake.
Sara curved her lips into a polite smile and clasped his hand.
Maybe the photographers were bad.
Or maybe he just wasn’t photogenic.
Because in person, Yoon Seung-tae was much more impressive than in photos.
Any suspicion about retouching vanished.
He looked easily over 180 cm tall, with a suit that fit like it was made for him—clearly someone who worked out.
His shoulders were a work of art.
Best of all was the strong, handsome line of his nose and jaw.
“I’m Seo Sara.”
“Yoon Seung-tae.”
He pulled out a card and handed it to her.
Executive Director, Altech Energy – Yoon Seung-tae.
The title she’d already heard Mirae repeat countless times was embossed in luxury.
She shoved it casually into her clutch.
Before she sat down, she took off her coat.
Just then, another man stepped forward from the wall and took it from her.
She hadn’t noticed anyone else besides Seung-tae, so his sudden presence startled her.
“This is my chief secretary. He’s trustworthy, so don’t worry,” Seung-tae said.
“Ah, I see.”
She’d thought it was a private dinner, yet he’d brought his secretary along.
Maybe that’s just how chaebols operate—or maybe this man was peculiar.
“Sorry for summoning you suddenly. I’m a fan of yours and wanted to meet you in person.”
“Is that so.”
Money really does buy everything.
Some people line up at four in the morning outside a TV station just to catch five minutes of their favorite celebrity’s commute, while this guy just dials them up for dinner.
She shook off a twinge of ordinary envy toward the rich.
Food arrived quickly—probably ordered in advance.
“The weather’s been so cold lately. Filming outside must be rough.”
“The movie’s done, so no more outdoor shoots. Just interviews and photoshoots indoors now.”
“I see.”
The meal was calmer and more ordinary than she’d expected.
When he’d asked to meet one-on-one, she’d wondered if he had some strange ulterior motive, but he only asked about her past projects and random personal trivia.
The tense anticipation felt pointless—it was just businesslike.
The food, though, was excellent.
She cleared every dish, making up for weeks of eating poorly.
“Would you like a glass of champagne?”
“Sure.”
